


say you'll see me again

by everythings_taken_why



Series: drabbles [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Timeline What Timeline, What Have I Done, What-If, ed and kendall have like 2 sentences, idek, it's just taylor and harry really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythings_taken_why/pseuds/everythings_taken_why
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Universe just loves seeing Taylor and Harry stumbling into each other out of the blue<br/>You could say the universe ships them hardcore</p>
            </blockquote>





	say you'll see me again

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's a Haylor fic and it started small but turned into 10 word pages because 1989 really made an emotional cut in my shipper heart so yeah   
> Also I'm not completely familiar with Taylor's locations/activities throughout 2013/14 so there's probably mistakes which you can overlook I hope   
> xx

It's been exactly two months since she heard his voice.

And Taylor says she's handling this whole thing quite well, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Like right now for example: she's sitting in her London home, just a few blocks away from _him._ And she can almost feel his arms wrapped around her body and she can hear him commenting the cartoon playing on the TV in his dumb voice and she can't help but go back in time and remember how it used to be. In a matter of seconds everything comes flooding in and she's sobbing, her knees pressed to her chest and the phone is left vibrating on the kitchen counter.

The best part is that she's mad at herself. She'd mad that she let him affect her like this. Yes, the breakup was a mutual decision, but she never thought he'd give up that easily. And _that_ broke her, broke her in so many ways. The relief she thought would come with the breakup was nonexistent because, _dammit._ She wanted-- no, _needed_ , him to fight for them. For all she knew now, all those times he'd said he loved her was just air escaping his lungs, mere letters arranged into meaningless words.

With tears still streaming down her cheeks, she padded slowly to the kitchen and unlocked her phone.

_Party in Camden at 9.30, wanna come?_   She snorted at the message her first instinct to send the person a fuck you and go back to crying on her couch, but then she remembered this whole mask she put on for others. They thought she was okay and this was a chance to prove it even more. Plus a little alcohol would be a great way to forget the fact that they were in the same city.

So she made herself look decent, all traces of tears long gone from her face and by the time she got to the dimly lit club, music so loud you might think your ears could bleed, thoughts about him were pushed aside.

"Oh my God, finally!" a shriek came from beside her when her friend grabbed her arm, tugging her towards the bar and immediately ordering shots for both of them.

 

 

The night went on like that; laughter, alcohol and a few screams were mixed with the dancing atmosphere and it was like no one was allowed to feel down or sad because everybody here were young, their lives ahead, free to make as many mistakes as they want and this was the time to feel alive and to forget everything. For a moment, she felt exactly like them-- free and vibrant. For the first time after him, she'd say she felt alive again too... that was until her blue eyes connected with familiar green ones across the dark room.

It felt like deja vu. They were reliving the day they met all over again and they both knew it. Sober part of her brain fought with her body, begging her to look away, to run as far away from this place as possible, but her feet weren't listening and next thing she knew she was in his arms, clutching tightly to his flannel and breathing in his cologne. And when his arms flexed, his lips kissing the top of her head, it almost became too much.

She missed this, she missed this so much and she wanted to cry out of desperation, but vodka was her friend then and helped her keep the tears at bay.

They didn't exchange any words, just gentle touches and sad looks, always by each other's side, like there was an unspoken plea.

And at the end of the night they ended up tangled in his white sheets, his fingers tracing patterns up and down her body and only then did he finally speak, his voice for some reason even deeper than she remembered. "I'm sorry."

 

 ***

 

Almost six months passed since she sneaked out from his house when he fell asleep and the ache he felt when he woke up to an empty bed was gut-wrenching. He fought the pain with everything he had in him, he had to let her go, he just had to.

But it was harder said than done.

The tour went on, he went out with the lads, had a few hookups, but at the end of every night he found himself scrolling through their pictures. He came to a conclusion that he was a masochistic asshole one day in mid August. He should've apologized right the day after they broke up, he should've fought for them, he should've ignore everyone and everything around them because it was _their_ life. No one was supposed to affect their relationship but them and he was weak and he let it all crumble by his feet. He fell asleep that night with tears streaming down his cheeks as his thumb hoovered over the call button next to her phone number.

 

When the VMAs rolled around he perfected his fake smile and kept it up during the whole show while his eyes drifted a few rows down every few minutes. She felt his eyes on the back of her head, but she didn't dare to look at his direction until the after party.

It was like alcohol always made it easier for them to interact, like it dissolved all the barriers that were there while they were thinking rationally. They took a picture together, both knowing real well what storm it'll cause as soon as it's posted on some social media outlet.

"My legs are killing me," she sat next to him in the corner of the room, hidden from prying eyes. "Heels are not my thing."

"You always looked better in flats," his smile was small, shy and this time there was no doubt that it was because of her. They only gave him a pint when he came, agreeing that was only alcohol he'd get the whole night.

"You only say that because I'm taller than you in heels."

Deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, masking the way his heart was shivering in fright at her every word, too scarred to endure another heartbreak from her. "I've grown, you know."

"I know. Your hair's longer too," she dared to reach out for him, her hand tangling into his soft curls as past flashed before her eyes once more. And her heart hammered against her chest just as scared as his when he leaned into her touch instinctively. And that was their problem, this was why they couldn't stay away from each other. They were so familiar, she felt like home to him and he felt like home to her and every attempt to keep a distance was futile.

They kept up the small talk until 2am when Niall walked up to them, breaking their bubble and announcing that Paul wanted Harry in the SUV in 5 minutes.

"I miss this," Harry spoke silently, his fingers intertwined with Taylor's and he looked so broken, so sad that she couldn't keep the honesty from slipping.

"I miss it too."

Their eyes stayed connected like that for a minute or two, blue mixing with green and then his lips were on her cheek and his hand was slipping from hers.

"Call me up sometimes, yeah?" With that he was gone, too scared to stay and hear her response.

 

 ***

 

Another two months passed and everything reminded him of her. She had taken his heart that night last November and he knew it'll always stay hers. So he started writing, pouring his heart in those lyrics hoping she'd read them one day.

She picked up her pen then too, after months of not writing anything decent she finally took a pen and started writing. 30minute session turned into a whole night one and when she stopped every word on that paper was for him and she felt her heart tremble in her chest because she'd have all the bad just to be able to wake up next to him again and hear him say _I love you._

 

 ***

 

In November he met a girl-- she was pretty, had long dark hair and soft brown eyes. She helped him forget about her for a few weeks and he was genuinely happy until he got a text form _her._

_Are you happy?_

His eyes stayed glued to the screen for a long time, debating if he should lie or be honest. He wasn't happy, how could he be happy when every morning he wishes she was there in his bed instead of Kendall. And he felt bad for Kendall; she was nice and really tried her best to cheer him up whenever he was grumpy and they could talk for hours like old friends and she let him do whatever he wanted when they had sex and she didn't deserve him. He was an asshole, that's what he was. Finally, he pressed _send_. He lied to her too many times while they were together, the least he could do now is always tell the truth.

_I haven't been happy for a long time._

 

***

 

She got his text for her birthday too, just like the one before, but left it unanswered. He didn't need her in his life at all, she saw them all over the magazines, the media praising them and saying they're the new power couple. And she wondered why _they_ got so much hate? What was it about her and Harry that made everyone bash them?

 

***

 

When New Year passed, Harry remembered their kiss on Times Square and he cursed out whoever invented the myth that you stay with the person you spent the Eve with. He knew now though, it was a lie, complete bullshit. He also sent her another text. _Happy New Year!x_ it read, with a small _seen_ underneath it. That was the day when his sadness started to turn into anger, anger towards himself and how stupid he can be.

 

He ended whatever he had with Kendall the next day, saying sorry and that he simply can't stay with her. Biggest surprise was that she wasn't angry or sad, she just smiled-- but like a knowing smile, the one that tells you it's alright, that this was meant to end.

"I know you still love her."

Harry couldn't help but nod shyly, keeping his eyes on his shoes the whole time like a small child.

"I hope you get her back one day."

 

 ***

 

On February 1 she went out with friends and somehow ended up at _his_ birthday party. This time there was no alcohol to remove the barriers-- he saw her the moment she walked through the door and she felt slightly trapped, his gaze not letting her leave. But this was _Harry_ and he felt like home and this instinct to run away had to disappear, she decided then.

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks," His smile was forced, frightened maybe? She didn't blame him though, if she was the one being ignored she'd act the same way.

"I'm sorry."

Seconds ticked by as they watched the lit up backyard full of strangers on his balcony and when he finally raised his head, his eyes were glossy, making her heart break all over again. " 'S okay. You were busy anyways, right? Working on the new album and such."

"Yeah... I was busy," she couldn't handle it anymore, she had to get away. Fuck whatever decision she had made when she came here, this wasn't working and she was seconds from breaking apart.

"Hey," his long fingers grabbed her wrist gently when she started to walk away, his eyes no longer teary. "What if we just go somewhere? Just you and me for tonight?"

"This is your party though."

"It's a shite party and I don't know half of these people anyways."

"Okay, let's go."

They drove around town, just catching up on everything and for the first time in a long time it didn't feel uncomfortable at all, it was just how it used to be. It reminded them of summer 2012, when they were just friends that stole kisses from each other here and there, when it was simple and thoughts about future didn't even exist.

_This could work_ she thought, they could go back to that and she was right earlier that night. He was home to her and her heart and running away from that was wrong. She made him properly smile too, poking his dimples when they appeared and making fun of his small stubble he hadn't shaved.

They got back to her place at 4am and made love. When the sun started to rise he made her breakfast and made her feel loved again and they were both reminded what an amazing feeling that was. To love and be loved. He almost said it too, those three words stopping at the tip of his tongue. Instead he kissed the corner of her lips and said _goodbye_ at 2pm.

The moment the front door closed she ran to her home studio and started writing again.

 

***

 

"I told him about these songs, you know,"

"And?" her head turned back to Ed after the information settled in, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"And nothing."

"Should I send him demos? I mean they're all about him..."

"They're your songs, Tay. Do whatever you think is right," picking up his guitar, Ed winked and left, leaving her alone in her dark apartment, only light coming from the skyscrapers around the hotel.

She looked at the time, her brain immediately calculating that is was morning for him and an hour later her phone was pressed to her ear not sure if she wanted him to answer or not.

"Hello," his deep morning voice traveled through the speaker. If he had waited a second longer, she would've hung up. A weird, childish part of her brain told her it was faith or some shit like that.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Oh! No," he coughs and she hears sheets moving around him, "I woke up like a few minutes ago."

They stay silent after that for a while, listening to each other breathe and for a moment she thinks she might fall asleep just like she used to-- his breathing rhythm being her favorite lullaby.

She's about to speak, tell him all about the songs she wrote and how she wants him to hear them and maybe even if he has some free time to spare so she can fly to UK so she can sing them to him, but then she hears noise coming from the other line.

_Who are you talking to?_ she makes out that from all the noise and it's a girl's voice. Sheets are rustling again and his breathing picks up, his temper rising at whoever asked the question. Now, she isn't the type to get jealous without a proper reason, but her brain can't push the fact that there's a girl in his room and 8am aside.

" 'M sorry about that," he mumbles but her brain doesn't really register the words because she hears the girl again, this time as clear as day. "Come back to bed babe."

"I--I have to go," she hangs up, tears silently falling down her face. But, fuck, she has no right to feel like this. They're not together, haven't been for a year and half almost, yet it hurts and she feels betrayed. She also wonders if it's really true that one can die from a broken heart.

On the other line Harry still calls her name, begging God and all saints that she didn't actually hang up. "Get out," He's being rude towards the girl right now but she's not important, Taylor is and the way her voice cracked with her last words.

After he reaches her voice mail for the 15th time, he gives up, throwing the phone across the room and punches a wall, leaving a small dent behind. His hand hurts like hell, but that doesn't even begin to cover what he feels inside and how angry he is at himself for fucking up-- _again._

 

 ***

 

It's beginning of October and she's staring at her new album. It's finished and her secret sessions should be next week. Everything is ready for the release on the 27th but something doesn't feel right.

She listens her own voice the whole night, mouthing all the words by heart and she finishes Wonderland without any sign of tears or breaking apart and then the next track starts and she clutches her chest tightly, scared she'd simply disappear if she let's go.

Memories of two years ago play in her mind and how she fell in love with his smile, in his laughter and his eyes, the way he'd talk about his new music and how he loved to ruin his Sunday toast and how she only fell deeper when fell too. She remembers their first fight and how it ended with two of them tangled in each other on the floor, watching old Disney movies. She remembers how one day they just started exchanging _I love you's_ with so much meaning and she curses herself for once thinking that they were meaningless for him. She knows know, somehow deep down she knows it-- he loved her, even more than she still loves him.

Next morning she goes to the nearby FedEx offices and sends one of her deluxe copies to his LA address, knowing he won't go straight home after the tour ends.

 

***

 

"Love youuuuuuuuuu!" he drags out as he waves goodbye to Louis and Zayn, checking out of the hotel. The tour is actually over and he can't believe it. It's official now, there is literally nothing that would keep his mind off of _her._ And he just feels it, in the pit of his stomach, that something will happen soon and he hopes he'll survive whatever it is to come.

Once he lands in LAX he smiles at the soft morning sun, 'taking in all the vitamin D' as he calls it and since there are no paparazzi he makes a mental note that this is meant to be a good day.

His house feels empty, like always. It irks him, but it's easier like this, when he doesn't have to stay in hotels whenever he has work to do here and the sun that is currently illuminating the room is only a bonus. But it also means no company, no one to distract him from his thoughts.

He scrolls through Twitter for a bit and then decides to unpack. His hand touches the leather bag he left by the front door and someone attacks the door bell. A few curses escape his lips, something about having at least a bit of peace or a nap before going off to the studio downtown. Surprise takes over when he finds chubby delivery guy standing awkwardly in front of him. He takes the package without reading the sending address though and signs the paper mumbling a silent _thank you_ and _bye_ to the guy. _Strange,_ he thinks. No one really sends packages anymore and for a second he's scared that maybe fans found out about this address.

But then his eyes skim over the front, recognizing the handwriting in a heartbeat and he stops walking. He knows what this is, his fingers moving across the edges of the album and he takes a deep breath.

The CD is in his MacBook right now and he looks at the track list but he can't make himself press play, he just can't so he leaves it in.

 

 ***

 

A week later he stumbles through the front door in the middle of the night. He's wasted and he's glad. That CD has been haunting him and right now the pain is actually bearable. But again the masochistic part of him is strong and takes over his common sense.

For the next 10 minutes he tries to get out of his blazer and boots, in the end he manages to get everything off without falling to the floor and with the laptop in his hand he walks to the backyard and sits down on the soft, wet grass in just his briefs. _Breathe_. It became his mantra now, well whenever it comes to her. It doesn't help, but at least he remembers oxygen is important to his body.

Another 10 minutes pass as he stares at the track list again before pressing finally play.

The albums plays through the speakers and his eyes are closed, lips pressed together because he has to keep it together. He doesn't though. He starts breaking at track 5 and reminds himself how stupid he is. But it's not until _Wildest Dreams_ comes on that he starts crying, properly crying, for the first time in those two years he starts crying and nothing is coming out of his mouth. He wants to scream, but his throat is dry because he remembers she did say that to him when they parted ways, she told him to remember her and, God, he does. He still does and he's sure he will for the rest of his life.

When the last song finishes he sits back up and looks at the sky with his puffy, red eyes. He never really believed in destiny or fate, sure he was a hopeless romantic from time to time but this was something else. Is it really just coincidence that he can't go a few months without the universe reminding him that he loves her, just as deeply and passionately as before and he still doesn't know what she wanted with the phone call in June and that's eating him alive because what if? What if she wanted to get in touch again and he screwed up?

 

On Monday afternoon he goes to the airport to change his ticket to London for one to New York, but stops right at the entrance when he reads a text from Niall how just saw her in the studio, recording some show. He doesn't waste time anymore and practically runs through security and gates. His hand clutches for his silver cross on his chest and as he waits for the plane to take off, he prays to God and all saints again that she'll still be there by the time the plane lands.

 

When the plane finally does land in Heathrow, Harry's nerves are over the roof and he doesn't even know how he gets a cab, but he does and once again there are no paps.

The car stops on the address he gave to the driver and he pays him extra, looking at the house for a few minutes before walking to the door. He can hear someone talking inside and then a few joyful screams. His heart is in his throat and his palms are sweaty and suddenly he isn't even sure why he's here standing at her door about to beg for forgiveness but before he can change his mind a short girl he doesn't recognize, probably a friend, opens the door and stares wide eyed at him.

"Holy shit," are the only words that come out of her mouth and Harry prays again that she doesn't scream or something like that, he wouldn't take well right now.

Instead, Taylor appears behind her and that smile he absolutely adores, fades.

"I'll call you tomorrow," she dismisses her friend, her eyes never leaving his. "Come in."

With his bags still slung over his shoulder, he walks past her into the familiar place, stopping a few feet down the hall.

"I listened to it yesterday... Well on Sunday actually."

"That's why you came? To stop me from releasing it?" she snorts and knows that made no sense, he barely spoke a sentence, but she can't stop her heart from jumping to stupid conclusions when it comes to this boy.

"No, it's your album, it's just-- the songs are about us," he bites his lip and pauses, his mind too jumbled to remember the speech he prepared for her during his 9-hour flight.

"And? You came to lecture me how pathetic I am for writing all those songs? Or how can I still write only the good when it comes to you when you broke my heart so many times in the past 2 years? How I still can't even look at another guy without seeing your face and can't help but feel slightly excited when I come to London because I know your bed is a few blocks away? I'm hurting, Harry, I've been hurting since we agreed it was over and I can't get over you, but somehow, along the way, I started writing these songs and they helped, okay? They fucking helped and they're helping. So if you came back to say all that then get out. I don't need you rubbing salt to my wounds so get out and never co--" angry tone turns into a type of a moan because his lips are on hers suddenly and they taste like airport coffee and shitty plane food. So she let's her anger die down cause her heart feels like it's home and her fingers tangle into his long hair, tugging at the roots, like she wants to make up for the lost time in those few seconds.

When he finally breaks the kiss, his eyes are alive, this light shade of green mixing with blue in some places and she rests her forehead on his hoping this is not a dream.

"I-- I didn't come back for that. I came back for you. I came to tell you that I remember, I remember everything and I want to remember as long as I'm alive and I love you, fuck, I never stopped loving you, babe. You're my home and I want you back, I can't do this back and forth, this heartbreak anymore. I want you and nobody else and I promise to be smarter this time around, I promise I won't be childish and tell lies, I promise to love you every day and remind you of that and I promise I'll fight this time around. Just take me back, please take me back," by the end of his speech he's breathless and desperation is dripping from his voice and when she opens her eyes again to look at his beautiful face, her heart swells again, just like it did when she first fell in love with the dork who's hands are cupping her face.

And she decides then, second chances are bittersweet, but they'll make this work this time around. She knows it.

 


End file.
